


All Grown Up Now

by wargoddess



Series: A Family Affair [12]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Anal Sex, Animalistic, Demon Sex, Incest, M/M, Mild Gore, Multi, Polyamory, Sandwich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 09:31:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19461196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wargoddess/pseuds/wargoddess
Summary: Something's happening to Nero. Changes are in the wind.





	All Grown Up Now

**Author's Note:**

> More gore than usual in this one. Non-con warning is for mention of Vergil's past, not described.

Nero knew that he was dreaming.

It couldn't be anything but a dream. As he stood within a dark, featureless space, though he was ready for anything, nothing greeted him except sound -- a soft, hollow rustling whisper, as of leaves brushing against bark. Or... no. That was scales on stone. He was pretty sure that it was the latter because that was how Vergil's scales sounded when he moved, and Nero liked that sound. This sound, however, was different. Smaller, finer scales. And whatever wore these scales shifted, now and again, as if restless.

Okay, then. Nero raised his voice and called into the dark. "You wanna settle down? Or come out and do whatever you're going to do. Either way."

In answer, a smile appeared in the darkness, Cheshire-bright. There was something especially horrifying in the mix of human-square and demonically-sharp shapes amid these teeth, because they didn't make any sense. Sharp needles in lieu of what should have been incisors. Square teeth replacing fangs. Because of this, when the mouth moved to speak, Nero was unsurprised that it lisped, faintly, amid a growl like sandpaper over steel. "Sssettle settle settle," it whispered. "Nerooo. No fighting. Good, usss. Nero. We good."

Nero blinked. Was that some kind of declaration of truce? "Glad to hear it," he said, squinting into the dark. He could see a faint silhouette of whatever the thing was, and it was big. Two or three times the size of a human being, big. He had an impression that it was crouching, too, so maybe it was even bigger than that. Then came that soft, rustling sound again, and the silhouette changed. Wings? Yes, he was pretty sure those were wings. "Okay. So, what, you're an incubus, come to feed on my dreams?"

Sandpaper laughter, surprisingly lighthearted in tone, despite the circumstances. The smile tilted, playfully. "Nono. Guessss."

And then something came at him, out of the dark. Nero flinched back, but this was not an attack. One of the thing's wings had moved into the circle of visibility that surrounded him within the dream. It edged forward, gunmetal black, mantling once to show off its short, razor-sharp metallic pinions. And it had -- Nero froze.

A claw-hand. At the apex of the wing-joint, where if anything a bird's equivalent to the thumb would be. Nero had never seen any other wings with this peculiar, nonsensical configuration... except his own. But his wings were made of light and energy, just spectral projections of his own demonic power; his demonshape had nothing like them in real, physical form.

Another rasping, hollow laugh, which sent forth a gust of sulfur-laden air to push at him. God, this thing was big. "Didn't have meeee, either, once."

Fuck. With a chill, Nero understood at last. This was _his demon_ , his own fucking inner demon, come out to play in his dreams. Except Nero had seen his demonshape in mirrors, and it was nothing like this. He wasn't huge. His wings weren't real. He didn't hunker, the way this thing seemed built to do, like something more quadrupedal than a human being should be. Also, he didn't have a lisp, which seemed like a minor thing to stress over, but there it was. 

Nero licked his lips, trying not to be afraid. Demons could smell fear. _He_ could smell _his own_ fear -- Fuck, this was crazymaking.

But the thing was right, too. Once, Nero had had no demon shape at all. With the Yamato's help, he'd manifested _something_ , a kind of shadow that -- he now knew -- had presaged his actual demonic form. Vergil had explained, upon hearing of it, that this was normal for some adolescent demons; before coming into their true power, they could summon forth a sort of embryonic precursor of it. This was, Vergil had informed him in typically cold-blooded fashion, how demons in the underworld knew which of their offspring to cull: the ones that could not manifest such a form, for being too weak, and occasionally the ones whose embryonic power was too great, which would make them a potential threat upon maturation. ("I would have permitted you to live," Vergil had then informed him, reassuringly. "Gee, thanks," Nero had replied.)

On impulse, Nero swallowed and summoned forth his own wings. It seemed strange that they should manifest here when he faced his own demonic self, but hey, dreams. When he extended the right wing and spread the claw-hand, it was a smaller mirror of the heavy, blackened thing that sat on the floor in front of him.

"You like?" The demon rumbled in low, groundshaking pleasure. "Feed."

Nero blinked. "Uh, what?"

That smiling, horrific mouth opened once, flexing large enough to swallow Nero, and in the process flashing him with a second set of teeth behind the first, sharklike. All of this second set were sharp. Then the mouth closed, a semi-human smile again. "Blood. Pain. Rage. Lust. Part of a nutritious breakfassst for growing devilsss." Nero snorted, not entirely surprised that the thing had his sarcasm. "So good. So _much_. Battle after battle, fuck after fuck. Make us big and ssstrong." It swayed back and forth a little, then, a serpentine, completely nonhuman movement. "Make claim, yesss? Make claim."

"Claim... what?" Nero frowned. It wasn't that the thing was stupid, he thought. More that it operated on such an alien level that here, in a dream which had freed it of Nero's humanity, it struggled to communicate in any kind of clear fashion. Still, Nero had spent the past few years in demonic cultural immersion, so after a moment he got it. "Wait. Uh, _make claim_ on who?" Credo's ghost nudged him, and he grimaced. "Whom."

It laughed again and dragged the claw-hand back, slowly, leaving parallel scoring-marks on the otherwise featureless ground. Just two of them, for some reason, instead of five. Nero shivered a little, not really in fear, at the sight of what those claws could do.

" _Two_ claims," said his demon, with soft, palpable lust. "Matched ssset, brothers. So beautiful, so terrible. We want."

"Oh." Nero scratched his nose, blushing a little. "Well, I've, uh, I've kinda _got_ them, see. Already, I mean. They..." It is the first time he's ever said it aloud, but he has to say it, because he's quietly so fucking proud of himself and grateful for his good fortune. "They love me. And I, um, I love them, so -- "

All at once the creature reared up to its full height -- and yeah, no, it was a _lot_ bigger than he'd thought. What was the point of being so fucking big? " _Love_ ," snarled Nero's demon, sounding displeased for the first time, even contemptuous. "We are _demon_. _Power_ , we need. Without ssstrength, you cannot protect. Yesss?"

It was a truth he'd known in his bones for as long as he'd been able to think. "Yes. I know that."

Something swished about the thing's feet as it nodded. A tail? Jesus. Of course it had a tail. Nero found himself fighting a giddy, slightly hysterical, laugh. " _Claim them,_ then," it said. "Claim king. Claim beassst. We _need_."

And then, impossibly for something so enormous, the thing began to fade into nothingness. Nero caught his breath and started forward, into the dark -- but abruptly there was nothing else there. He stood alone.

Except for a final whisper, drifting in the thing's wake:

_Live, or do not. But cannot **eat** love._

Nero forgot about the dream afterward. But when he woke, he sat up and stared down at Dante and Vergil, who curled together beside him in the extra-large king bed he'd splurged on buying for his room. It was still pre-dawn. Neither of them stirred. His scent was known to them, his presence a welcome thing because they were all stronger together, safer together. It was why Vergil had started spending most nights at Devil May Cry lately, though he maintained his condo at the clock tower out of what Nero suspected was pure stubborn unwillingness to admit that he liked being with them. Here, together, all of them slept better than they ever had alone.

They were beautiful, the two of them. Alike, but so different. And he loved them, more than he'd ever believed himself capable of loving anyone except Kyrie and Credo. More, even -- because Dante and Vergil understood him in ways that his human family never could have. He was grateful, so grateful, that they had not left him alone in the world.

So Nero watched them sleep, memorizing every hitch of breath and twitch of muscle. Every subtle sign of weakness.

#

Nero was sleepy the next day when every devil hunter in a hundred-mile radius got an emergency call from the government about the appearance of a high-order demon. Which -- first, Nero hadn't known the government had such a system in place, so what the fuck. And second, he didn't need the fucking call. He had already sensed the thing's eruption into the human world like a slow-blooming nuclear explosion.

Nero didn't know where the thing had been hiding itself, because it felt ancient, and it was strong enough that either Mundus or Urizen should have forced it into servitude ages ago. That was what demon lords _did_ , after all -- set themselves at the top of a pyramid scheme of power, with each tier of lieutenants recruited by force and made loyal by magical compulsion or pain. Most demons accepted the arrangement, as Nero understood it, because that was how demonic instinct worked; submission to a more powerful demon felt right, and even pleasurable. But a few always chafed to be free -- and a very few, those with the foresight or patience to plan, saw the threat coming and battened down somewhere safe until the undesirable demon lord was gone. 

It still wore the tattered remnants of old, torn silk from some kind of cocoon, so Nero figured the thing must have simply slept through the last few thousand years, maybe with a supernatural alarm clock set up to wake it once Mundus bit the dust. Now it had arisen feeling peckish, a massive hydra with three insectoid heads atop a lumpen, tentacled body, and here it was fresh from the underworld looking for a city's worth of humans to snack on. 

But last time the thing must have visited, humanity had been primitive, unprotected, helpless. This time, about fifty devil hunters, armed to the teeth and spoiling for a fight, were on hand to greet it -- including Nero and the fam. All in on the fun.

And fun it was, Nero decided somewhere in the middle of the blazing, glorious dance that followed. ( _hamstring and spin, dart away before its counterstrike, and there was Lady firing a missile into the wound to cauterize it before it could heal_ ) They'd had nothing to ease their battle-cravings but sparring for months, now. And while those months had been glorious for so many reasons, not the least because the sparring so often devolved into fucking ( _Dante's going for its throat; Nero reads his movements and snatches one of the thing's heads back to make it easy for him, and Dante's blood-flecked grin is his reward_ ), the lack of any challenging opponents _had_ gotten to be pretty frustrating. ( _flash of red against blue-black; how beautiful, the way Dante and Vergil slash in the exact same way with the exact same force but in opposite directions, crossing paths closely enough to foul each other but never doing so_ ) Nero supposed this was why he'd been feeling so restless, lately. So... unfocused? He couldn't articulate it. ( _there there **there** is the spine of this creature, the base of the head, in the front instead of the back of the neck, do you both see? of course you do_) See, Nero was all in favor of the sparring and fucking... but those things alone weren't quite enough. ( _three strikes, at the base of three necks, but the creature is not quite out, not yet_ ) He needed this, too: a difficult fight, with a real risk of death. A hard-won kill. And maybe that, too, was just an inescapable part of being Sparda's get. In the end, they would always need blood.

They had nearly killed the thing, Nero felt certain, when something went horribly wrong. The other hunters had whittled most of the tentacles off its amorphous body, leaving the deadlier heads to the three greatest of their number. With that last strike, Dante and Vergil and Nero had severed all but the thing's last, true head -- a stunted-looking, short-necked thing that had been hidden amid the folds of the three necks. But the instant this head was exposed by their strike, the creature flailed wildly, as if even the touch of air on the head's skin was agony. 

The flailing caught them all off-guard. Vergil got smacked to the ground headfirst by a bloody stump, hard enough that he actually lay there for a moment, unmoving, and in serious danger of being crushed beneath the creature's bulk. With a snarl, Nero threw his Devil Bringer, meaning to snatch Vergil away from danger -- and for his trouble, he got speared by one of the thing's few remaining tentacles. This meant that instead of rescuing Vergil, he flopped on top of him, bleeding himself and struggling to pull the thing's tentacle out of his chest. However, when he finally managed to sever the thing, remove it, and then haul himself and Vergil out of danger, he heard Trish's cry -- and looked over to see Dante.

Unconscious, and impaled on a thicket of rebar from one of the nearby smashed buildings.

Nero's heart clenched. He knew it wasn't enough to kill Dante ( _probably_ ) but he was just never going to be comfortable with seeing a dozen spars of metal twisting out of the chests and abdomens and -- God -- _faces_ of people he cared about. He got Vergil, who was recovering from a split skull already, into a safe spot, sheltered behind a fallen load-bearing wall. Then, while Lady and the other hunters kept the creature occupied, Nero leapt up onto the pile of rebar, dancing carefully from one spar to another. He'd have to get Dante off the things quickly, or he would start healing around the rebar and that would hurt him even more.

Just as Nero reached him, however, he felt a sudden pulse of... something. Coming from Dante. Was he waking up? Nero hurriedly grabbed his shoulders.

And Dante's eyes opened. They were completely red -- not just the irises but the sclerae as well, and glowing so brightly that the light washed his face in red. Before Nero could pull him free of the rebar, Dante's body arched as if pulled by something unseen. A few inches. A few more. Blood flew everywhere. "Fuck, hang on," Nero grunted, manifesting one of his wing-claws to help.

Before he could, there was a blur, and pain, as something struck Nero's shoulder hard enough to dislocate it and dematerialize his spectral wing. Nero cursed, grabbing for his shoulder -- but Dante had vanished. 

Behind Nero, what was left of the demon shrieked. Nero whirled, startled and disbelieving because Dante had never been the fastest of them, that was Vergil... but sure enough, Dante now stood atop the demon. And the demon was falling apart in random, roughly equal-sized chunks. The demon that they had just spent _hours_ fighting. Dead in an instant.

"Holy fuck," Nero breathed, awed and -- well -- unbelievably horny. Because Dante was gorgeous there, his back to Nero, standing on the demon as it slid apart, his red coat billowing in the breeze. Delighted, Nero shoved his shoulder back into place and hopped down from the bed of rebar, trotting through the debris toward Dante's back. "Jesus, old man," he said, unable to keep himself from grinning. "If you could've done that from the beginning, why -- "

"Nero." 

Vergil. Startled, Nero halted, frowning over at his father. Vergil was on his feet, but there was still a visible dent in his head, and, ugh, one of his eyes dangled down his face on a strand of tendon. He had a hand clapped over the empty socket, and his one-eyed gaze lacked none of its usual intensity as he fixed it on Nero. 

"Careful," he said.

Vergil did not give warnings without good reason. Frowning, Nero turned to Dante again... and belatedly caught the warning whisper of his own senses. _Danger._ Dante was too still. Carefully Nero edged around him, circling wide to avoid a puddle of ichor spilling from one of the dead demon's organs. When he glimpsed Dante's face, though, his belly tightened.

Dante was still unconscious. His body listed, just a little, to one side; some of the bones were broken, though Nero could hear little pops as they pushed themselves back into place. Dante's face was too slack, empty of personality -- but not _empty_. Something else had come to the fore, taking over his body and taking care of his enemies. That other's red, red gaze flicked toward Nero now. Tracking him, Nero realized with a chill. 

Then Dante's face came alive, abruptly twisting into a wide, open-mouthed grin that did not belong on a human mouth. "Pretty," said not-Dante.

Nero licked his lips. "Hey, there," he said to his uncle's demon. He took a deep breath and did not feel fear, because he dared not. The demon that stared at Nero through his uncle's face was far, far too malicious to tolerate that kind of weakness in its presence. The power of the thing radiated from it in little waves of force, pressing against Nero's skin like gusts of wind. God, Nero had always known that Dante was the strongest of them, but it had never been this blatant, before.

Or... Nero swallowed. Or this gorgeous. Dante was fucking _gorgeous_ like this, standing here dripping power and madness, and part of the reason that Nero wasn't having much trouble fending off fear was that he was too goddamn turned on.

And that wasn't good. Because as magnificent as Dante's demon was, Nero was pretty sure he wouldn't survive trying to fuck it -- not while Dante wasn't home to keep it in check. There was something just a little _too_ inhuman about it. As if Nero faced not a high-order demon, but something barely a step above an animal. No, worse. Animals did not kill for pleasure, after all... and this thing, Nero suddenly knew, would. It would rip his head off as foreplay, gratify itself with his desecrated corpse, and laugh if Dante felt grief afterward. It was an absolutely terrible idea to let this thing get interested in sex.

The demon with his uncle's face lifted its head, inhaling. Picking up Nero's scent. It made a low, amused sound, then -- to the awful sound of bones popping back into place -- took a step toward Nero. Whom it thought was _pretty_.

Nero took a step back. Dante's demon tilted its head as if to say, _Are you really that stupid?_ "I'm not running," Nero said, a little annoyed that it would think so poorly of him. But he couldn't fight it, either. Dante was hurt badly enough that he wasn't healing as fast as he should have been, despite this thing's presence. Nero would have to hurt it more to put it down -- and that was even assuming he _could_.

So Nero stepped back again, until his heel bumped against a chunk of the hydra demon. He risked taking his eyes off Dante long enough to confirm which piece it was... and Dante was right in front of him when he turned back. The hole in Dante's face where rebar had pierced him -- just to the left of his nose -- still gaped open, almost like a third eye, though it was closing as Nero watched. When Nero froze despite himself, Dante leaned forward to inhale near his throat. Scenting him again, and apparently liking what it smelled. But when Nero did not turn his head to bare his neck as it probably expected, it drew back. This time when it gave Nero that open-mouthed smile, every tooth in that mouth had turned to needle-fangs. "Pretty," it said again. Not too creative with the compliments, Dante's monster of the soul.

Nero licked his lips again -- then crouched, slowly, reaching behind him. The enemy had been powerful enough that its own demonic energy was keeping it intact for a while after death, though in a few minutes that would dissippate and the corpse would begin to dissolve. In the meantime, however, it was ordinary flesh and blood, albeit sliced-and-diced. Nero's fingers encountered what they sought, and he summoned his clawed hand to dig in. Pulled free a big, soft, dripping flop of flesh. Stood again, offering this fragment of the creature's liver to his uncle's demon.

The beast drew back again, blinking... but then its gaze locked onto the liver. It leaned in to inhale again, as hungrily as it had just done near Nero's throat, and stepped closer. Nero drew the morsel back, just a little, luring the thing in. When it was close enough, he slid a hand up Dante's arm, testing. It crooned a little, wanting the meat, and he held it closer, not quite offering. When it did not protest his touch, he threaded fingers into his uncle's longish hair. The urge to yank was strong, and he fought it. _Careful_ , his father had warned. Of course; this was still Dante, however distilled down to essentials he might be, and when pulled, Dante pushed back. Instead of force, Nero applied steady, gentle pressure. Back. Down. A suggestion. An offer of exchange.

Dante's beast rumbled a little, then uttered a soft sigh before it knelt at Nero's feet. 

Nero licked his lips, refusing to process the curl of raw excitement that he felt. Stay focused. He held the liver to the beast's lips. It opened its mouth of needle-teeth -- and immediately lunged forward, jaw opening to twice any human width, teeth clicking shut in a blur.... right where Nero's fingers would've been, if Nero had been stupid enough to keep them there. But he'd already dropped the liver and snatched his hand away, anticipating the attack. The demon's teeth closed on air.

"Nice try," Nero said, unable to stop himself from grinning. The beast grinned back, unrepentant, as it apparently decided to settle for the liver. Nero watched the last of its wounds heal rapidly as it gulped the stuff down, swallowing the dead demon's lingering demonic energy. Liver was good for you when you were sick or hurt, Nero had always heard.

"And you'd eat mine, if you could, wouldn't you?" he breathed. Dante's beast did not answer, but that was all right. Just the fact that it wasn't attacking Nero meant something. On affectionate impulse, Nero dared to dance a finger over the beast's lips, then down its jaw and throat, coaxing. After a moment, with deliberate grace, it turned its head aside, baring its throat to him.

_Fuck_. Nero swallowed harder, fighting the sudden overwhelming need to throw his uncle down in a dead demon's blood and fuck him senseless in front of God and fifty hunters. 

With an effort, Nero lifted his gaze to Vergil, who'd come over after putting his eye back in. The head-dent was gone, too, and somehow he'd even managed to get the blood and dirt off his face, though there was still a lone patch of red marring his perfect hair. He eyed Dante thoughtfully, then Nero, narrowing his eyes. "Interesting," he said.

In that moment, Nero wanted Vergil too, so instantly and powerfully that Dante's demon rumbled again. And that wasn't good, either -- not horning after his father while Vergil was palpably wary for some reason. Nero took a deep breath for a kind of shaky self-mastery. "We should get home." 

Vergil watched him for a long moment. "Do you mean to take him from me?" 

That was when Nero finally understood. Dante had never before yielded to anyone but Vergil. And even though this wasn't _really_ Dante... it was Dante.

"Are you crazy? Come on." But even as Nero tried to blow it off, he found himself stroking Dante's throat. While he savored Dante's low, pleased thrum beneath his fingers, he noticed that Vergil's gaze had flicked down to watch this. And that was completely wrong. He wanted them both. He _needed_ them both, the way he needed his own heart or lungs, or both at once.

"I'm not competition," he said, firmly. Vergil's gaze searched his face for any hint of untruth. There wasn't any, because Nero meant every word. "If I tried to take him from you, you'd kill me. _He'd_ kill me. And I wouldn't try, because he'll always be yours first. I know that."

Vergil relaxed, but only minutely. "You want _something_ , though," he said. "Something's changed in you lately. What are your intentions?"

Nero shook his head -- not in denial, just struggling to articulate the strange feeling within himself. It had been there for a long time, really, a chronic yearning turning gradually acute. "I... All I've ever wanted was -- " He hesitated, then finally put voice to it. " -- an equal share."

Vergil seemed mildly surprised. "You _have_ that. Our bond includes you. You alone have earned a place with us."

"I want more than _a place_ ," Nero snarled, suddenly frustrated. "I want everything, damn it! Like, like _this_." He stroked Dante's hair again. Dante, the most powerful of them, who knelt quietly at his feet for the moment. "There are -- things -- I need. Things _you_ both need. It's... We can..." He faltered, struggling. "It's _important_."

Vergil frowned at this incoherence... and then abruptly his expression grew shuttered. He'd figured something out, Nero realized with intuitive certainty. Something he didn't mean to share. Well, that was just peachy.

"I suppose you have earned _an equal share_ ," Vergil said at last, "or a chance to try for it." Then he paused, meaningfully. "But don't think you'll win _me_ through my stomach." 

And his gaze was hard and cold and proud... and bright, inhuman blue. Vergil, but not _just_ Vergil. 

There was probably something really wrong with the fact that this sight made Nero grin, fingers inadvertently tightening in Dante's hair. Dante sighed in pleasure and leaned his head against Nero's belly. The danger of this only made his dick harder, and lust made him bold. "So maybe you're a bigger challenge," he said, still grinning, giddy with endorphins. "But I _will_ win you, Father. It's only a matter of time."

Vergil lifted an eyebrow. "Well, _well_ ," he said, amused. "Someone grew a bigger pair overnight. This _will_ be interesting." He turned away from them, glaring off the other hunters who were still on the scene. Some were taking trophies or artifacts for sale, and a few -- well, Trish -- blatantly eavesdropped, albeit from thirty feet away. She winked at Vergil, then headed over to Lady, probably to share whatever she'd picked up with her superhuman hearing.

Nero looked down at Dante and was relieved to see something of his uncle in that face again, and not just the beast. Dante had relaxed against him, grinning lazily, lips stained red. "Hey," Nero said.

"Hey, yourself," Dante said, deliberately resting his cheek on the prominent lump of Nero's dick. _Danger_ , hissed his demon again. Yeah, he didn't think Dante's demon had gone back to sleep yet, either. He kept a grip on Dante's hair, though loosely. It wouldn't save him from a major gut-wound if the beast got serious, but maybe he could keep the wound less-than-deadly. Or at least, even if Dante got his liver, maybe he could save his dick.

Dante chuckled a little, probably picking up on some of Nero's mood. "Yeah, we should head home. Sounds like we've got a few things to work out between us."

Nero nodded, stroking Dante's cheek. Without thinking he murmured, "Yes. Such glory is not for the eyes of humans."

Dante's eyebrows rose. Then he got to his feet -- though he stayed close, slipping an arm around Nero and soliciting a nuzzle from him. Which was fucking awesome, because Dante had never done anything like that before and now Nero wanted to bite him. Just a little bite. Just a taste. When Dante leaned back, Nero realized belatedly that he'd been growling and leaning toward Dante's neck.

"Fuck," Nero muttered, then stepped back to put some distance between them, blushing. "Uh, sorry. I don't... shit."

Dante's mouth pulled into a smirk. "If my, uh, _asshole friend_ weren't still hanging around, kid, I'd see if you could cash that check your ass keeps writing," he said in a low voice. It was as much threat as promise. They had never fucked. Vergil was jealous and Dante was, generally, lazy, so Nero had been content to take his pleasures with Dante only in ways that Vergil approved. But Vergil was right; something had obviously changed. 

What would it be like to fuck Dante? What would it feel like to have Dante _inside_ him, all that strength and savagery channelled toward a singular purpose...? Nero stared back at him, mouth watering, and for an instant Dante's eyes flickered red again. He grinned that terrible, monstrous grin at Nero... and then Dante chuckled and deliberately stepped back, taking a deep breath for control. "Buuuut, maybe later."

Yeah. Important to remember. Do not fuck the murderous psychobeast.

At least... not without help.

Vergil glanced around at them, shook his head in irritation, then transformed. " _Home_ ," he growled, then launched himself into the air.

Dante shook his head. "Wonder what's got him in a snit," he said, as if he didn't already know. Then he, too, transformed and shot away.

Nero took a deep breath. God. None of this was a good idea. He was happy with things as they were, wasn't he? Sure he'd always been, well, curious, but...

_We need_ , whispered his demon.

"Yeah, yeah," Nero muttered. "Look, quit bitching and let me work, okay?" He sighed and adjusted himself, since his dick hadn't settled down even a little. "I'll get them for us, don't lose your tits."

When he summoned demonshape, power flared around him and the world blurred and it _hurt_ in a way that it never had before -- a pulsing, mind-deep ache that made him gasp and stumble for a moment. Then his armor settled into place and his ghost-wings released their grip on a chunk of upturned road nearby, which they'd apparently grabbed onto to help steady him. He blinked at the marks this left behind in confusion for a moment: two puncture patterns where his wing-claws had dug in. But the punctures were much, much bigger than anything his own wing-claws could have made.

Huh. Probably left by the dead demon before its untimely ass-kicking. Spreading his wings, Nero shot into the air after Vergil and Dante.

#

When Nero got to Devil May Cry, Dante and Vergil were both in the entry hall. Dante sat at his desk, coatless and shirtless, eating a peach, which was... fuck, Nero couldn't watch Dante eat a peach. Especially not when, above the peach, the eyes that watched Nero with amusement were silver tinged red.

_Mine_ , whispered Nero's demon, which -- no. Not quite. Nero focused on his father, who stood near the enormous couch. Vergil leaned against the wall, his ankles crossed and arms folded in apparent relaxation -- but too still. And he also watched Nero, though not with amusement. He looked as regal there against Dante's worn-wood wall as he did on a throne. He also looked exactly like the waiting threat that he was.

_Challenge accepted_ , Nero thought, and felt a purr of agreement from his other self.

"You seem to want something," Vergil said.

Nero nodded. "You, of course. I always want you, Father."

The slightest of smiles dented Vergil's lips. "I see you've gotten better at asking for what you want."

"Who said anything about asking?" Nero paced toward him. Not directly; he made a circuit of it, and kept it slow. Examining his prey from all angles.

"I didn't realize you'd suddenly turned stupid." Vergil's head stayed still, but his gaze moved to follow Nero. His expression was as immobile as that of a statue.

Nero chuckled in spite of himself. This was as exciting as courting Dante's beast had been, and he found himself responding with the same heady mix of tension and arousal. The whole room smelled of lust, really, and just as much of it was coming off his uncle and father as from him. Apparently a good, dangerous fight had gotten everyone's blood running hotter. "I just meant I'm not planning to beg, this time. Even though we both know you love my begging."

"Yes. You do it so exquisitely. But this does create some difficulty, you realize, if you want what I think you do. Do you mean to fight me? Force me into submission?"

Nero laughed, turning to pace in the other direction -- a little closer this time. Closing in. "You'd cut my fucking head off."

Vergil inclined his head in cold confirmation. "Then if you will not ask...?"

"I was planning to negotiate, actually."

That did it; Vergil's head tilted a little in not-quite-human interest. Nero had noticed before that Vergil's demon wasn't as obvious about showing its presence as Dante's -- but there were times when it was really, really clear that Vergil was less a man with a demon in him than a demon that just happened to like wearing human skin and manners as a fashion statement.

"Negotiate," Vergil said.

Closer. He was a few feet in front of Vergil now, and closing the circuit. Nero spread his hands. "You're a king, aren't you? I seek an alliance, o king."

"I _see_." He actually sounded amused; Nero grinned back. Vergil unfolded his arms and came off the wall, which Nero thought was a good sign. "But to negotiate, you must have something I want." His gaze drifted down Nero's body, and everything in Nero tightened in hungry response. Vergil saw this, of course, and smirked. "I can have _you_ whenever I choose."

"Yeah, you can." Nero rubbed his nose with a finger, chuckling. "Not even going to pretend you can't. I want you so much right now I can hardly think."

Vergil's eyes glimmered, bright and blue as water. "An admission of weakness is a poor opening stance for negotiation."

"Nah," Nero said. "That's the whole point of negotiation, isn't it? Neither of us would be here if we didn't want something." He slid his eyes toward Vergil, sidelong. "You told me once that you _wondered_ about some things. It got me thinking."

There. Vergil's reaction was minute, but Nero knew him; the ever-so-slight tension in his posture indicated surprise. Or... more than surprise? "Oh."

Nero shrugged, as if he didn't care. "Just thinking about all the things you've done for me... and that no one's ever done them for you. You and Dante..." He risked taking his gaze off Vergil long enough to glance at his uncle. Dante was licking his fingers after the peach, but Nero was pretty sure he was paying attention. Hard truth, then. "There's too much pain between you for some things. Nothing to be done about it. That's just how it goes sometimes." He focused on Vergil again. "But some kinds of pain don't feel good even for us."

Vergil stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He glanced down at Nero's right arm, pointedly. 

Nero chuckled. "Well, if you want to put that back on the negotiating table, we can. But I called things even when I kicked your ass. And when you made me yours." He managed not to blush as he said it, and was pleased to see Vergil's eyes widen, just a little. "But you've never been anyone's."

A muscle flexed in Vergil's jaw. "Mundus."

"No, not even then. That bastard might've taken you apart and put you back together wrong, but he never _broke_ you." Nero was close, now, and stepped in closer. Enough feinting. He put his face near Vergil's ear. "I want what you never gave him."

Vergil turned his head, just a little. Not touching; listening. "And that is?"

"Trust."

No reply. But Vergil didn't gut him -- and after a moment, Nero licked his lips and pressed the attack.

"Someone else making all the decisions, just for a little while. Someone else doing all the work so you don't have to." Carefully, carefully. "I want to make you take me in your mouth again, Father. You liked that, didn't you? I want you to like it."

Silence. But Nero heard the catch of Vergil's breath. Smelled the sudden heady musk of sexual arousal. Yeah.

"I want to rip you up with my claws," Nero said, "then lick you whole. I want to come in you. Again and again, all the way in, while you tear up my back. I want to make _you_ beg." Fuck. Vergil smelled so good. Nero found himself leaning in, drawn to the thickest scent at Vergil's throat -- but Vergil leaned away at precisely the same angle, turning them, making him turn too. They began circling each other, a slow, lethal, luscious dance. "I want to hold you down and make you do everything you ever wanted, but can't bring yourself to ask for. Only this time it'll come from somebody you know you can trust. Someone who loves you. So, that's my offer for this negotiation."

Vergil's breath had quickened. His gaze, hot and blue, had fixed on Nero's mouth. "And in exchange?"

"You know what I want." The demon moaned inside him. Nero took a deep breath to try and restrain its need, and the breath came out shaky. "Don't pretend you don't."

A soft breath of not-quite-laughter. "Yes, I believe I do know." He stopped abruptly, and Nero did too, every nerve afire, every muscle tense. Vergil did not keep him waiting, thank the demon gods. "Your offer is... acceptable."

Nero lunged at him. He couldn't help it anymore. Vergil reacted instantly, hissing and striking back; his hand shot at Nero's throat, flashing those glorious glossy claws of his. Nero caught his hand instead, catching the other too before it could gut him, and for a quick, frozen instant, they glared at each other in detente. 

Then, very slowly, Nero bent and kissed the backs of Vergil's claws.

Vergil's breath caught. And -- oh -- he lifted his chin, just a little. Narrowing his eyes.

Nero turned Vergil's hand over and nudged past the claws. Kissed the palm. Kissed the wrist -- and added the prick of his own teeth, just a little sharpness, right over the pulse. Just a tease. When Vergil's growl softened into a purr at this, Nero used his grip on Vergil's wrist to pull him closer. Nudged at Vergil's chin.

Slowly, so slowly, Vergil turned his head aside. Fucking _yeah_.

Nero had just enough control not to bite him immediately, and that was good. There was still too much tension in Vergil, and Nero had to kiss the long tendon of his throat before he relaxed fully. He kept the bite gentle, too, in acknowledgement that this was less a claiming than a sharing -- But God, God, it was everything he needed. For a moment it was too much for him, and he pressed his face against Vergil's neck, shaking and overwhelmed. To his very great relief, after a moment Vergil cupped the back of his head and pulled him close.

"Shhh," he murmured into Nero's ear, and something about this -- the strength of Vergil's hand, the hint of approval in his voice -- helped settle Nero. "Calm down. You won't last at this rate." Nero heard him smile. "And you have a lot of promises to keep."

"Y-yeah. Yeah. Sorry, I just..." He took a deep breath -- and then could not help snarling and yanking Vergil's vest aside and sinking his teeth up to the gums in his shoulder. Vergil hissed again... oh, but this time he didn't fight, and it was _so fucking perfect_. In a frenzy, Nero grabbed him, spun them, and threw him onto the couch.

Things got blurry for a while. All Nero knew was want. All he saw was Vergil's pale skin, bared and marked red by his claws. All he tasted was Vergil's throat against his tongue, pulse beating fast; and Vergil's cock; and Vergil's ass while Vergil writhed and hissed in his hands; and Vergil's blood as Nero bit him again and again. All he felt was hair wrapped around his fingers and hard muscle pushing back against him and the tight wondrousness of sheathing his cock in hot, willing flesh. When the demon hissed, _Both, both, they are yours, we want both_ , he thought back, _Shut the fuck up, I run this show_. But then he looked up across the room at Dante's red, gleaming gaze. "Get over here," he growled, and there was another blur, and suddenly he found himself shouting as Dante hauled on his hair and raw-fucked him and laughed and clearly did not care that he was still fucking Vergil at the time. 

Somewhere in all this, Nero found control. This was enough to allow him to hiss Vergil into a better position, and bite Dante when he did something that hurt too much, and to regulate the pace so that they fucked together and not against each other. Then it somehow became Dante riding him, and him riding Vergil, and Dante riding Vergil _through_ him. And Nero taking both of them, drinking in their delight and drowning in his own, with every pore, every sob and snarl. Every part of himself, demon and human.

They came apart only reluctantly, and mostly out of sheer exhaustion. Then Nero flailed free of them and staggered away from the couch, gasping for breath, clawing at his chest, as the demon in his mind shrieked in pure exultant triumph and caught him up and pulled him in and _then they were one_ \--

\-- and Nero's roar shook Devil May Cry as his demonshape coalesced and filled the entire entry hall. Because he was suddenly fucking huge. And he had _four_ real, black wings instead of two ghostly ones. And...

"What the fuck?" he said, lifting his goddamned enormous clawed hands to stare at them. His voice, flanged and deepened by the transformation, shook DMC's windows. _"What the fuck is this?"_

Dante lifted his head enough to stare at Nero, then laughed and flopped back in the easy chair he'd pulled himself into. "Oh, so _that's_ what was going on."

Vergil sighed in irritation, probably because Nero's freakout was spoiling his afterglow. He pulled himself upright to lean against one of the big couch's arms. "Calm down," he said to Nero, smoothing his mussed hair back. "It's normal. You're just becoming a demon lord."

"I'm _what_?" Nero flung out a hand, and accidentally smashed Dante's desk. "Shit! Why the fuck am I so _big_? How the -- "

Vergil leveled a look at him. With a resentful hiss, Nero stopped flailing, and tried to hunker into a posture that wouldn't break the ceiling or walls. "I _said_ ," Vergil continued, "this is normal. You _have_ noticed that demons with the potential to rule in the underworld are larger than usual, haven't you? And that they tend to collect lieutenants -- " He paused, smiled, " -- or _allies_ \-- who are powerful enough to assist in their campaigns of conquest?"

"What?" Well, he had noticed the lieutenant thing, but the rest? "No, why the fuck would I notice something like that?!"

Dante was still laughing his ass off. Vergil shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Mundus," he said, with brittle patience. "Urizen. Zva-ad-zum."

All very big guys. Okay, there was maybe a pattern there. Except -- "But I don't _want_ to rule the fucking underworld. I'm human, mostly!"

"Then don't, and stop whining about it," Vergil said sharply. "But should you change your mind, you _can_. Your demonic power has evolved to a sufficient strength and complexity to permit the command and binding of other high-order demons. And that's probably a good thing, because demons who start the metamorphosis into demon lord and fail, die."

Nero stared down at him in horror. "I've been... dying, then?" And then he understood. "You knew. You fucking _knew_."

"Of course. After all, you have assumed this form once before -- though that time it was unstable, and you were completely out of your mind." Vergil shrugged. "You weren't ready for it then. You are, now."

"But -- "

"And I suspected it when you fixated on us. On _claiming_ us, despite the obvious dangers." Vergil nodded toward Dante, who waved jauntily from where he sprawled with his head back. "As I understand it, the change requires a massive infusion of energy from an outside source, as a kind of primer for all the metabolic and spiritual changes. I used the Qliphoth and its fruit. Mundus did as well, and reportedly he also consumed several thousand powerful demons. I did have some concern that you meant to consume us as well, but..." He offered Nero a small, satisfied smile. "Well. There are many kinds of consumption."

Why did Nero have to be fathered by such a _fucking asshole_? "You still could've told me -- " Inadvertently he flicked a wing, and took out a ceiling fan. "Shit. Hang on."

It took a real effort to pull himself back into humanshape this time. He'd never had that kind of trouble with the change before. It was as if, suddenly, human was no longer his default state. He slipped into his first trigger-state along the way, actually, the smaller demonic form that he'd always thought of as his other self, before settling into humanity. That was his other self. This was himself, too. All three states were _him_ , he knew with sudden, instinctive certainty, with no one of them holding any more primacy than any other. All of them in balance, for perhaps the first time. All of them true to him.

"Okay," Nero said, scowling. "Now, you wanna explain how -- "

"No," Vergil said. He glared at Nero, narrow-eyed. "I don't want to explain."

_"What?"_

"Oh, for crying out loud, kid. Gotta agree with your dad for once: you're still alive, so get over it." Dante pushed himself up from the chair. He hooked one arm under another to stretch out his shoulder, then worked his neck, grimacing when it was a little stiff. Then he glanced at his brother. "Verg?"

Vergil waved at him. "Go ahead, brother. But don't take all day about it. I'm feeling impatient." He looked Nero up and down, and Nero blushed, thrown by the frank consideration in his father's gaze. "Do you want the couch?"

"Nah. Floor'll do fine. Or the wall, or wherever." Dante bounced from foot to foot, punched the air, then grinned at Nero. And though there was no longer any glimmer of red in his gaze, it was very, very clear that he didn't have _sparring_ in mind. He came toward Nero, his walk nothing but swagger, his dick and lopsided grin a promise. "All right, let's go, kid. Your big, strong demon's probably still hungry, right? I know mine is, after that little taste."

"Little taste...?" Oh, shit. They wanted more. A _lot_ more.

But... Nero's big, strong demon _was_ still hungry. And the two demons who had offered themselves to him, to fight at his side on the inevitable day when he began his reign of terror and blood throughout the twin realms --

\-- fuck, yeah, no, Nero was gonna have to put _that_ shit in check real quick --

\-- were so very beautiful, and willing, and _his_.

"Yeah, okay," Nero said, blushing, but biting his bottom lip too, and thinking already about all the things he wanted to do with both of them. "I got this. Bring it on."

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this was hard. I feel like this story is trying to do too many things, and probably should've been a series of shorter tales. But I can feel the muse finally wearing down on this series, so decided to do it all at once in hopes that this, at last, would finally be the end. (We'll see.) Anyway, apologies for the length and the all-over-the-placeness, but I hope it works.
> 
> I think of Nero's demon as a cute, playful eldritch abomination -- still something of a child given that it's only been "awake" for a few years at this point. As gigantic demon lords go, it's sweet and eager to please. But it's still a gigantic demon lord. Also, in my head it sounds like a vorcha (from Mass Effect).
> 
> Sidenote: "Don't lose your tits" makes absolutely no sense as a phrase.


End file.
